


Coming right behind you

by balefully, mediaville



Series: One of These Nights [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, First Time, M/M, Making Out, Rimming, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balefully/pseuds/balefully, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediaville/pseuds/mediaville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We could go back to mine, if you want," Bressie says eventually. His hands are tight on the steering wheel. "If you're not tired from your flight? You probably just want to get home and go to bed."</p>
<p>"Nah," Niall says, crossing one foot up on his knee, bouncing it. "Not tired. I'm kind of buzzing, actually. Missed you, you know?"</p>
<p>Bressie just looks straight out the windscreen, but Niall can see the corner of his mouth drawing up in the twitch of a relieved smile. "Missed you, too, mate."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming right behind you

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final part of the three-part series. Phew! We tried to balance out the feelings and filthy porn, but probably ended up overboard on both. Thanks for sticking with us <3!
> 
> Just as a point of information, Bressie has [Generalized Anxiety Disorder](http://www.bressiemusic.com/?p=1078), which we touched on briefly here.
> 
> Extra-special thanks as always to [offwhitetower](http://offwhitetower.tumblr.com) for the Irish-pick!

The flight back to London isn't long, but Niall goes through two mini bottles of vodka anyway. Normally he sticks with beer, but today is a spirits sort of day. He's listening to Kodaline and staring out the window at the blindingly bright tops of the clouds, picking at the label on bottle number two. He can't stop bouncing his knee in time with the music even though he's probably jostling the businessman in the seat in front of him.

Niall's been trying to keep nonchalant about seeing Bressie again ever since he first brought up that he was going to be home for break, but all the laid-back calm is stirring up in his chest now, churned into something anxious and exciting. Both the labels from his bottles are in tatters; they say peeling at them means someone is sexually frustrated, and Niall figures that's about the right of it.

He's not sure what's going to happen once he lands. There will probably be a car from management sent to take him home, per usual. He'll get back to his flat not long after dark. Everything will look different, since Jeanine's been in with contractors while Niall was gone to redo the accent wall and bring in the new couches and carpet and mount his guitars and everything. Bressie's an unknown variable in all this—should Niall call as soon as he's landed? When he gets home? Should he ask Bressie over or wait to be invited round to his house instead?

They hit some turbulence and Niall's vodka bottles knock together. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the music sink into his ears and blot out all his noisy thoughts. When he opens them again, Cheryl the flight attendant has already come by to clear his tray-table and the seatbelt sign is on. His ears pop with the descent, and his stomach flips unpleasantly, as much because he'll be on the ground in London in minutes as because of the altitude change.

The other boys are with their girlfriends still, not quite ready to get back to the city, except for Harry who's going to LA with Cal for his break as usual. It's strange to be on a plane alone, but it does mean there's a much smaller crowd waiting for him when he disembarks. Basil's there to shepherd him through the airport and make sure someone's picking up his bags, and Niall couldn't be more grateful. He's tired and his palms are sweaty and the crowd might be smaller, but there's also no one else to distract them from him. There's no Harry with an ill-advised hat to take pictures of while Niall slips out the side door to avoid a panic attack when it inevitably feels like he's being crushed by all the people clamouring for selfies with him.

There's an overflow garage, closed to the public, with a covered walkway leading to it, everything the grungy claustrophobic grey of airport concrete worldwide. There's no crowd there once Niall gets siphoned off into it, bags in his hands and Basil back at the main terminal making sure no one follows him. Even without people around, Niall's skin is prickling. He hops a little on the balls of his feet, listening to the scuff of his shoes and trying to take steady breaths. His inhaler is in his pocket like it always is for flights, but he doesn't want to bother with it.

The car waiting for him at the curb isn't the standard issue Range Rover that management usually sends. It's a cobalt blue Audi, and the boot pops open as Niall walks towards it, someone coming around back from the driver's side.

Bressie leans up against the side of the car, arms crossed over his chest, all long legs and broad shoulders and big stupid grin. Niall's belly flips—with just the two of them in the garage, it feels like something secret, something awesome, and he skips into a jog to cover the distance between them faster. "Brez!" he calls, a happy stage-whisper, shuffling to a stop and dropping his bags with a dull thud. Bressie holds his arms out to catch Niall in a big hug, Niall's nose pressed into Bressie's sternum, his hands clammy and fisted in Bressie's t-shirt at the small of his back, squeezing as tight as he can.

Bressie's hands are big, and his palms are damp, too, already pushed up under the hem of Niall's jumper, whether by accident or just because skin was the first thing on his mind, Niall doesn't know. He's breathing deep and even, murmuring, "Looking well, chief," into Niall's hair. Bressie pushes him away again before Niall's ready to let go. "Right then, let's get your bags in the car and you can tell me all about your flight."

Niall ducks to pick up his bags, but Bressie's too quick, grabbing everything in two big armfuls. "Nope, in with you. You've done enough. I'll take it from here." Niall groans.

"I'm not injured, you know." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, curled into fists, his heart thumping in his chest, unable to wipe the smile off his face to pretend like he's offended.

"Just get in the damn car," Bressie says. He's wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt and skinny jeans with a pair of heavy black boots and a denim jacket, and Niall shrugs his shoulders a little self-consciously in his oversized Stussy jumper. He feels young, like a soft kid in pajamas, tired because he didn't take enough of a nap on the plane but wired with excitement, still fidgety.

Niall hasn't actually had a chance to ride in the Audi yet—he always marveled at the tiny Kia, how Bressie even managed to fit in it. This one's got a schmancy bike in the boot already with plenty of room leftover for Niall's stuff, and it still smells like new car. The dizzy fluttering in his stomach starts up as soon as Bressie slams the boot and comes around front. "Thanks," Niall manages when Bressie folds himself in. "I was expecting Don. This is way better."

Bressie grins down at his lap, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Figured it couldn't hurt to surprise you. I called your crew first to make sure it was okay." He looks over at Niall, smile fading into something softer. Niall missed him a whole damn lot.

"So...mine?" Niall says, wondering what sort of state the flat will be in when they get to it. He's excited to see his new stuff, but nothing's going to be set up, and he probably doesn't have much laid in in the way of food yet, since he wasn't expecting to have anyone over until he'd had a chance to make an Ocado order.

Bressie doesn't say anything at first, breathing through his mouth and looking a little concerned as he navigates them out of the parking garage. "Unless you need to stop off somewhere else before that," he says after a moment, swallowing a bit awkwardly.

"Well, I was thinking—you know, I've just had the new furniture in, and probably there's not even any booze or food since I've been gone so long. If we wanted to—hang out together tonight, dunno, maybe somewhere with more provisions might be better?"

Bressie's quiet, the tick of the indicator as they get onto the motorway seeming particularly loud. He switches on the radio, which is playing The 1975—Niall recognizes it thanks to Harry's obsession with the new album. They're always playing it during Meet and Greets these days. "We could go back to mine, if you want," Bressie says eventually. His hands are tight on the steering wheel. "If you're not tired from your flight? You probably just want to get home and go to bed."

"Nah," Niall says, crossing one foot up on his knee, bouncing it. "Not tired. I'm kind of buzzing, actually. Missed you, you know?"

Bressie just looks straight out the windscreen, but Niall can see the corner of his mouth drawing up in the twitch of a relieved smile. "Missed you, too, mate." Now that they're in the car and there's no chance of random car park attendants seeing them, the urge to lean over and kiss Bressie is almost overwhelming. He's driving, though, and Niall's probably got a gross case of airplane mouth, and they'll have plenty of time once they get back to Bressie's anyway.

Niall just nudges him instead, rubbing a little at the meat of Bressie's bicep with his elbow and smiling to himself. He turns the radio up when the song fades into Avicii and slumps down in his seat, watching the city streets go by as they head back to N3.

Bressie's street is quiet and empty, streetlights glowing, trees rustling cheerfully in the summer breeze. He pulls up next to an Aston Martin to parallel park, and Niall does a cursory check to see if there are any paps camped out nearby.  An old lady waiting at the zebra crossing down the road is the only other person in sight. Bressie pops the boot and goes around back to get Niall's things. "Coast's clear," he says, but strides quickly up to his front door anyway instead of waiting for Niall, years of better-safe-than-sorry taking over.

Niall trundles after him, hands fisted in the pockets of his trackies. Bressie's on the top floor, a modest flat in a posh Victorian house. Bressie's got the highest ceilings up there, the sloping roof of his living room coming to a peak far above his head.

"Was hoping you might want to come over even if we did go to yours first," Bressie says, almost sheepish. "So I made sure to tidy up."

It's spotless—not that Bressie's usually a mess, but it's clear he made an effort. "Something smells good," Niall says, flopping down on the couch. Bressie's tucked his bags back in the corner of the living room and is shuffling around in the kitchen. "I was trying out some new recipes earlier," he says, waving a cookbook over the breakfast bar. Niall's pleased to see the guitar-shaped bar stool that matches the one Bressie got him has pride of place. "Roz lent it me. Mostly grilled stuff, know you're into that lately."

"What, you leave the grill on when you're out half the day?"

Bressie laughs, clinks around a bit more, then comes back into the living room with two pints of an amber lager with a good head on it. "It's just the marinade you're smelling," he says. "Drink?"

"Sick," Niall says, and makes grabby hands for the glass. He takes a deep pull—it's really good, mellow and summery and easy to drink.

He's on his third pint and they're watching Mayo get thrashed by Kerry on Sky Sports when he excuses himself to the loo. Bressie's big and warm and sprawled on the opposite side of the couch. He smells like aftershave and a bit like clean sweat, and there's no way Niall can pay attention the match when that's going on. Thinking about how good Bressie looks and how much Niall wants to be fucked without actually saying anything about it is starting to make him jittery and frustrated.

There's a fresh set of guest towels on the bar behind the door, and everything smells faintly of mint. Niall laughs a little to himself, pleased and kind of smug that Bressie would go to all this trouble for him. He helps himself to one of the unopened toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet and cleans his teeth before he has a piss.

"Went all out, didn't you?" he says once he's washed up and back in the living room. He takes a running leap onto the couch, bouncing on the middle cushion and tucking into Bressie's side with a fond smack to his thigh. "Toilet smells like a mojito. I like it."

"Thought you might want a shower or something," Bressie says, shrugging. "There's also a shelf full of Carlsberg in the fridge if you want, and I laid in orange juice and lemon and ginger tea. Got stuff to make that curry you always like, too."

Bressie must've muted the match while Niall was in the loo—the excited yammering of the commentary has been replaced by Don Henley. "And you've got the Eagles playing," he says, with a sly smile.

"On vinyl, no less," Bressie says, with a self-deprecating scoff of a laugh.

Niall laughs too, then toes off his shoes and pulls his feet up into the couch. His head feels like it's going to float clean off his body, he's so happy. His lips are tingling with how much he wants to straddle Bressie's lap and kiss him, but he tries not to think about it in too much detail so he won't pop a boner and embarrass himself before they even start. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to woo me, head."

Bressie doesn't answer, and for a brief moment Niall feels like he's said the wrong thing, like maybe that isn't where they're going after all. But when Niall glances over at him he sees that Bressie's full-on sweating, dark patches under his arms and around his neck spreading. His face has gone pale and he's shivering like he's got the flu in the past four seconds, breaths coming short and tight. "Woah," Niall says, scrambling up off the couch. "What the fuck, Brez, are you—"

He realizes it's a panic attack when Bressie leans down to drop his head between his knees, gasping like he's drowning.

Niall hasn't ever seen Bressie like this before, though of course he knows about his anxiety. His only frame of reference is what it feels like when he freaks out himself, in a crowd of people or a too-tight space. Something shifts in him and he goes calm and steady, all of his focus zeroing in on helping.

He sits back down on the couch, pressing up close to Bressie, one hand firm around Bressie's bicep and the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. "That's alright, shh, you're gonna be okay. Just try and breathe even."

Bressie's got a hand clapped over his mouth, and he's trying to take deep, noisy breaths through his nose. Niall pulls his hand away from his mouth, holding it, lacing their fingers together. "You're alright, man, no big. You take your time okay, I'm here with you. You're okay." Niall keeps rubbing his back, scratching a little with his fingertips just to give Bressie a calming, repetitive sensation to focus on instead of the fact that it probably feels like his heart's about to explode. He gets up on his knees so he can reach better, can curl protectively around Bressie, needing the extra height because Bressie's so big and closed off.

Niall talks to him for maybe fifteen minutes, quiet and calm, presses his nose against Bressie's spine and murmurs with his lips against the thick muscle over Bressie's rib cage. He rubs his cheek over Bressie's back, squeezes at his arm reassuringly, never lets go of his hand even though both their palms are clammy now. Bressie squeezes back, and Niall probably shouldn't feel good when Bressie's so upset, but he does. Being close to Bressie like this is exactly what he wanted, and being able to help him lights Niall up inside.

He's useful right now, isn't just some dumb kid. What's between them is more than just being mates who fool around, and being here for Bressie when Bressie needs him makes it feel like it's something permanent. Even though Bressie's having a hard time, Niall's glad that he's going to be the one holding on to him when he comes back to himself.

Eventually Bressie's muscles loosen up and his breathing finally evens out. "That's it. Feeling better, bro?" Niall asks, murmuring into the cotton of Bressie's t-shirt, patting him manfully on the thigh.

Bressie nods, face still a little pale, and the corners of his mouth pull up ruefully. "Getting there. Thanks." He sits back against the couch, unfolding from the defensive ball he was in, and shakes his head, wiping at the sweat collected on his brow. "What an idiot." He sounds drained, voice worn. "I'm sorry, Nialler—never really know what's going to set it off. Worst possible moment, seems like. Every single time."

"It could have been way worse," Niall says, waggling his eyebrows and trying for a joke. Bressie doesn't look up, though, broad shoulders slumped down. "Hey, you don't have to apologize to me, obviously. I've had—maybe not exactly the same thing, but I know what it's like, at least a little. You know me and crowds. Not a good mix, usually." He's babbling a bit, but mostly he's trying to figure out what he can say that will bring Bressie back to him, that will coax a smile from him. "I hope I didn't—you know. Do anything to make you anxious."

"No, no. It's not that." Bressie looks up, eyes locking with Niall's for a moment, then skittering away. "I guess it's just—I want this to be perfect. Could've been anything, this time it was that."

"No need to worry there," Niall says, snorting softly. "It's pretty much going to be perfect no matter what." It's honestly how he feels; he can't imagine being disappointed as long as he has time with Bressie. "You don't have to try so hard, man. Whatever you do, I'm—" Niall pauses, re-thinks what he was about to confess. "I'm a sure thing, y'know?" He shifts his shoulder against Bressie's and gives him an exaggerated wink, hoping to pull a laugh out of him.

Bressie blows out a breath, hangs his head. He's not laughing. "I should just take you home," he says, voice rough. "You've been away for a million years. You've got to be exhausted."

"You're joking," Niall blurts out, frowning. "That was a joke, right? Because if we're not getting naked in the next two minutes, I will literally cry. Tears streaming down my face, snotty nose, the lot."

Bressie chuckles this time, but he's still all clammy and tense, clearly nervous. "It's possible that I'm stalling," he says, sounding gruff. "This is maybe freaking me out a bit."

Niall laughs, and something loosens in his chest. "I picked up on that when you stopped breathing, head." In a way, it's kind of reassuring to know that Bressie's nervous, too, that it's a big deal for both of them.

Bressie gives him a weak smile. "Normally at this point I'd go run ten K to calm my nerves down and sort my brain out."

"I'll be honest: that is not the kind of foreplay I'm up for," Niall says, making a grossed-out face. "But if you need to get your heart rate going, I've got some ideas on how I can help." He grins hopefully.

Bressie groans at first, but it turns into a laugh. He loops his arm around Niall's waist and pulls him over onto his lap like he weighs nothing at all. Niall gives a shout, playing along, pretty sure Bressie's going to kiss him even if just to shut him up.

He doesn't, though, not yet. Bressie's hands are at Niall's shoulders, blunt thumbs pressed to the soft sides of Niall's throat. Niall can feel his pulse pounding where Bressie's touching him. Bressie just focuses on him, eyes clear, lips parted, laughter and tension slowly bleeding out of him until he looks more overcome by Niall there in front of him than anything.

Niall smiles at him, can't not with the way Bressie's looking at him, like he can't believe he's so lucky. He licks his lips and sways forward, mouth soft. Bressie makes a quiet, surprised sound but gets with the program, leaning in and kissing Niall slow and deep, opening up after a beat. Niall kisses back, enthusiastic, his arms slung over Bressie's shoulders, chin tilted up and knees shifting forward.

It's crazy having Bressie under him, warm and strong but holding him so lightly, his body and hands pressing into Niall. It feels like it's been forever since Niall was last able to touch him, the idea of it more like a hot fantasy than an actual memory. Bressie's mouth is beyond good, though—plush and hot and all Niall can think about is feeling it on his dick. He tilts his hips, spreads his thighs and snugs his knees at Bressie's sides so he's straddling his lap. Bressie's still holding him gently, one hand cupped at the nape of his neck so he doesn't get a crick, the other curled lightly around his throat. It's sweet and lovely, but Niall's greedy, always wanting more. He dips his tongue into Bressie's mouth tentatively, trying to coax Bressie into tonguing him back.

When he finally does, it's so intense Niall groans into it, muffled by their mouths. Bressie's tongue fucks against his own, hot and insistent, and his hands grip tight in his hair, holding him still, making him take it. Niall's dick is chubbing up, rubbing against his flies through his pants. "Shit," he mumbles against Bressie's lips, rocking a bit, pressing down to rub his cock against Bressie's belly, shameless as the need for friction starts burning in him.

Bressie groans in the back of his throat, sliding down some against the back of the couch, knees parting under Niall. Niall responds, flexing and arching his back out so his arse rubs along the thickening line of Bressie's dick, breathing hard through his nose as he keeps kissing him, mouth open and greedy.

He keeps rocking until Bressie holds him still, a hand at the back of Niall's neck squeezing firmly while the other drops to clench at Niall's skinny hips. He pulls back slightly, nudging the rough stubble of his jaw into Niall's overheated cheek. They're both panting, hips tilting slutty and desperate to do more than just frot on the couch like sixth-formers. “I hope you’re ready for what I’m gonna do to you, darlin’,” Bressie rumbles into his ear, and Niall shudders with how hot it is, how much he wants everything Bressie has to give him.

Bressie must take it the wrong way, though, because he pulls back then, looks Niall in the eye and says, "Hey," concerned. His chest is heaving and Niall can see his nipples through the weave of his shirt, wants to touch them. "We don't have to, like, do that stuff we talked about. If you're not sure, I—"

"No, please," Niall blurts out, not processing anything other than Bressie suggesting they _don't_ actually have sex. "I want to, Brez. So ready. You've got me so fucking hot right now," he says, dropping one hand down to squeeze at the stiff poke of his dick tenting at his jogging bottoms. "We're doing this. Tell me we're doing this."

Bressie stares down at where Niall's touching himself for a long moment, licking his lips. When he looks up, he seems determined. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he says, and Niall's never heard his voice sound like that, all roughed up and low, not even when Bressie had talked him off on the phone. He hooks a hand around Niall's body, grabbing hold of the back of one of his thighs. When he stands up, he hauls Niall with him, holding him up with one arm. "We're doing this," he murmurs, and Niall laughs, wriggling in Bressie's grip, feet dangling above the floor.

"I can walk myself," he says, squirming to get Bressie to let him go, but Bressie holds him fast.

"I'm aware," says Bressie, but it sounds a little strained, and not from Niall's insignificant weight. Being carried like that, like a little kid, only makes Niall more riled up, makes him feel like a horny pup the way he can't stop from rubbing himself against Bressie's broad chest. He dips down and nips at Bressie's neck as Bressie hauls him to the bedroom. "You're really asking for it, chief," Bressie says, voice sounding ruined already. He drops Niall down on the huge bed and holds him there, thick fingers starfished across Niall's whole chest.

"I really am," Niall says. His voice breaks a little when he says it, but he keeps his eyes locked with Bressie's, serious.

Bressie's mouth twitches up into a half-smile, and he stands, huge bulge clearly visible in his jeans just at eye-level for Niall. Niall's mouth waters, but he waits, knows from the way that Bressie had carried him to bed that he's going to take control.

"Lose the shirt," Bressie finally says. He watches as Niall strips his t-shirt over his head, wiping at his mouth as he takes in Niall's pale body. Niall's nipples stiffen up in the cool air, goose pimples running down his chest and arms. He's still scrawny, always will be, but he's been training a lot lately. Maybe it shows, and maybe Bressie likes the lean muscle that defines his arms and shoulders now.

"Got about four more chest hairs than last time," Niall says, trying to lighten the heavy press of significance and keep himself from trembling.

Bressie doesn't laugh, though, just keeps looking at him intently. "Trousers," is all he says, gesturing at Niall's trackies. When Niall hooks his thumbs into his waistband and starts to wiggle them down, Bressie stops him. "Leave your briefs on."

Something in his tone sparks through Niall's nerves, makes him tingle all over. It's thrilling that Bressie knows what he wants, has thought about this and knows how he wants this to go down. Niall tugs at his trackies and leaves his briefs in place, plain white cotton Y-fronts clinging to his swollen cock.

The way that Bressie's looking at him now makes him forget all about his chicken legs.

"Gorgeous," Bressie says, leaning down to loom over him on the bed, pressing his big hands into the mattress on either side of Niall's hips. He smells so good, stronger now than on the couch, like sweat and sex and laundry, and Niall has to actively keep himself from pushing his face into Bressie's chest, instead just letting him straighten back up. Bressie rubs at his mouth as he stands there, not touching or speaking, just looking his fill at Niall.

Niall's shivering and skinny in only his underwear. He must look so small on Bressie's big bed, needy little cock stretching out the front of his briefs. He cups one hand over his dick, as if that would hide anything.

Bressie catches the movement, eyes flitting down and fixing on where Niall's fingers curl around the shape of his stiff prick. The hungry look Bressie gives him makes Niall go hot all over, makes his dick twitch and the slit flex open, forcing a dribble of precome to seep into the cotton.

Bressie drops to a crouch by Niall's knees at the end of the bed, knocks Niall's arm away and then slides both of his big hands down Niall's thighs, spreading them wider so that he can fit them around his broad shoulders. The stretch in Niall's hips makes his cock jerk obscenely in his underwear, completely visible. "Christ," Niall half-whispers when Bressie ducks down and presses his nose and mouth low down on Niall's dick.

"No covering up," Bressie murmurs, breath hot between Niall's legs. "Not with me."

Niall can't help but squirm, lift his hips a little so that his dick rubs against Bressie's cheek through damp cotton. "Gonna get me out of these then?" he says, a bit breathless already.

Bressie slides his hands up farther, grips at Niall's waist, but he looks up, shakes his head. "Not now, pet. Been thinking about having you like this for—Jesus, for longer than I care to admit. Just like this, pretty little dick so boned up in your underwear, all juicy for me. Christ, I gotta—"

He ducks down then, rubs his mouth down over Niall's cock, sucks him right through his briefs. It's so shockingly good it makes Niall curl into himself, hunch down over Bressie's head and breathe out, "Ah, fuck."

Bressie's mouth is hot on him, wet and relentless. Niall's underwear rubs against his dick, all friction and slick spit. The sound of Bressie sucking, tonguing at him is so dirty, it makes him whine. It's unbelievable, Bressie's huge body hunched between his legs, his perfect mouth fitting over almost all of Niall's cock where it's held down, bowed in his Calvin Kleins, pushing towards Bressie's throat. Niall tilts his hips up and spreads his thighs wider, his arse clenching. He's dying to get his briefs off, dying to feel Bressie's mouth around his bare cock, but he could definitely come like this, just from Bressie with his hands on his body, tonguing at him through the cotton, sopping with spit and precome now.

Bressie pulls back before he can, though, crouching lower so that he can nose at Niall's sac. He grunts as he presses one of Niall's thighs up, trying for better access. It knocks Niall off balance, makes his elbows buckle so that he slips down onto his back, gasping at the sensation of Bressie's hot breath between his legs.

He barely manages to collect himself before Bressie's flipping him over, turning him onto his belly easily and tugging his underwear down in one jerky motion. They're hanging off Niall's ankle and he can't even slide them off, because Bressie's got his thighs kicked wide and he's ducked back in, thumbs dipping into the crease of Niall's arse and opening him up. "Fuck," Niall says, and sucks in a sharp breath as Bressie buries his face in Niall's crack, stubble rubbing against Niall's sensitive skin, lips still wet with spit and precome.

Niall's dick blurts against the sheets and he stretches his arms out, trying to find something to grab on to as Bressie holds him open, fingers digging into the meat of Niall's arse, spreading him. Bressie kisses him there, tongue flicking at the tight furl of muscle, thick and hot and insistent, slicking him up and pressing into him, working in and out until Niall's loose, his hole pliant and open for Bressie's mouth. Niall's burning up with it, how vulnerable he feels, part of him just wanting to bring his knees together and beg Bressie to stop. It should be embarrassing, should be gross, but instead it's the best thing Niall's ever felt, like he's going to want it all the time now.

"God, you're delicious," Bressie murmurs, nuzzling into him, holding him down when he squirms. "Could eat you all day, sweetheart. Better than I'd even imagined." Bressie's voice sounds wrecked, like there's nothing he'd rather be doing than licking Niall out.

Niall can only manage a whine as Bressie tongues into him again, both hands back on Niall's arse, holding him wide open. His dick throbs, fat and sensitive against Bressie's soft sheets. He fucks his hips down into the bed, good feeling coiling up in him at the base of his spine, in the tight pull of his balls. He's moaning, loud and needy, but he can't control it, can't really focus on anything other than the wet slurping sounds that Bressie's making.

Niall's drooling into the bedding as he ruts his hips faster and more erratic, not even caring if he knocks Bressie's face away. Bressie moves with him, keeps him open and nips at his rim while Niall bucks against him. He's dying to wank, but he can't even get a hand on his cock before he loses it, spasms wracking through him as he creams up the bed. He comes long and intense, hole clenching and unclenching helplessly as Bressie hums into the hot skin behind his balls, spit trickling down his perineum. Bressie holds him steady, big hands marking up his arse and pushing him into the overwhelming jerk of his dick. Niall is completely consumed, whiting out.

After the last of the aftershocks have passed, Niall tries to right himself and turn over, but Bressie holds him down by his hips. "Not done with you yet," Bressie says, face slick against Niall's arsecheek. It takes a second to register, Niall still lingering in sex-fog. He feels gross, suddenly aware of the mess he made, cooling under him on the bed.

"I'm lying right in the wet spot," he says, face scrunched up in disgust. Then, "Jesus," when the tip of Bressie's thick finger presses into him, slippery and unyielding. He gasps at the feel of it, already so much better than every time he'd fingered himself.

"We're gonna make this whole bed a wet spot," Bressie says, voice low and rough. "Gonna get you off so many times you'll be sliding in it."

Niall groans, breath hitching and muffled in the mattress. Bressie's working him over now, fingers slick with lube, squelching in and out of him relentlessly but gentle enough to make Niall feel like he could get hard again any minute.

"Won't take me long," Niall says, breathing fast already, trying to keep a grip on himself, wriggling his hips and getting his knees comfortable. "You—really fucking know what you're doing."

"Like I said," Bressie murmurs. "Had a lot of time to think about it."

Niall fists his hands in the bedclothes, shifting his body back into Bressie's fingering, easy for it, loving how full he is when Bressie presses all the way in and the sweet pull when he drags his fingers back out. "Christ," he says, rubbing his burning cheeks into a cool spot on the sheets. "Feels like you've done more than think about it."

He can hear Bressie breathing hard, too, wishes he could turn over and get a look at him. "Nah, that's not for me," Bressie says shakily, fingers plunging in and out of Niall's hole a little quicker now, making him feel touched-out, oversensitive. "Never could do the whole casual sex thing."

Niall grins, pressing his smile into Bressie's bed, pushing back against his hand, tensing his thighs to stop from trembling. "Been saving it up for someone special, then?"

"Cheeky," Bressie says, pulling his fingers out and smacking at Niall's bum lightly. As soon as he lets up, Niall flips over, wants Bressie to see that he's hard again, that he's up for more. Being good, pleasing Bressie, gives him a thrill. He's like a puppy craving a pat on the head.

Niall can see Bressie now he's sitting up again, and he looks really fucking good. He's all flushed and sweaty, still dressed, but his jeans are unbuttoned, big dick pushing at his flies, shirt damp around his pits and collar. He's gorgeous, and Niall want to climb him.

“Jesus,” Niall whispers, struck dumb for a moment at the sight of this fully grown man all turned on because of him. He shakes his head quickly and pushes himself up the bed so that he can spread out, knees up and open so he can show Bressie everything. “You gonna keep holding out?” He tries for bravado, but it comes out unsure, hopeful.

The smile Bressie gives him then, soft and wanting, makes Niall's belly flip and his breath catch. As soon as Bressie crawls over him on the bed, elbows on either side of Niall's head, Niall arches up for him, kisses him as best he can manage.

Bressie kisses him back like he’s precious, but his hips press hard against Niall’s, circling so that the fat press of his hard cock catches and drags against Niall’s oversensitive skin. He hooks his hands under Niall’s knees and hauls his thighs up to wrap around Bressie’s waist, then slides his hands down to cup at Niall’s arse, using the leverage to fuck against him even harder. “It hasn't been hard to hold out,” he says gruffly, voice shaking as he ruts into Niall, mouth moving against Niall’s throat. “It’s not like I’m interested in anyone else.”

His hips slow, then, and Niall blinks up at the ceiling, chest tight, while Bressie mouths at the underside of his jaw, big body gone suddenly locked up. “Hope that’s okay,” he says quietly, and Niall sucks in a noisy breath, because it is very much okay. All he can do is nod and wind his arms around Bressie's neck and try not to blurt out how he thinks he might be in love.

Bressie lifts up so that he's over Niall, mouth slack and wet and eyes soft. He kisses Niall gently, completely, until Niall can feel it all the way down to his toes. Niall tastes himself on Bressie's lips, and maybe it should be gross, but it's not, just reminds him how flayed Bressie makes him feel, vulnerable and lit up everywhere. Eventually Bressie slips a hand down under Niall's thigh and tucks two fingers inside him, kissing him all the while.The stretch of it feels amazing, but the tenderness in Bressie's touch makes Niall's breath come short, struck with a sudden twinge of insecurity.

"I'm the one hoping it's okay," Niall says, thinly through the distracting feeling of Bressie's fingers. He tips back and forces a self-deprecating laugh. "I've never—this is my first time doing this, so," he shrugs and tries to smile. "Dunno if it'll be worth the wait."

Bressie makes a shuddery noise, a breathy huff, fingers stuttering from the steady stroke he'd been using to open Niall up. He stops for a moment, meets Niall's eyes and holds still as he looks down at him.

Niall bites his lip, feeling more exposed now than he did even when Bressie had him spread open, tongue up his arse. "Brez?"

Bressie shakes his head, smiles lopsidedly, and says, "It's already been worth the wait," all incredulous, like Niall's silly for worrying about it. "I'd keep waiting." His voice rumbles against Niall's skin. "No way I could ever be disappointed, swear on anything you like." Niall nods, letting it sink in. "You're who I want. I only want this with you." He's breathing faster, seems nearly as overwhelmed as Niall feels. "And you have no idea what this means to me, that you're letting me—that you're trusting me to do this with you, it's—incredible. Don't know how I got so fucking lucky."

It's hard for Niall to imagine anyone luckier than himself when Bressie fucks his fingers back inside him, touching him deeper than he's ever been able to do on his own. Niall can't hold back an embarrassing moan at how it feels, like he's split open and too full, and it's so, so good. He wants more, all of it. "Fuck me," he breathes out, not even blushing one bit.

"Oh god, I'm gonna," Bressie says breathlessly, hips jerking against Niall's, big cock jostling Niall's body with every thrust. "Gonna make it so good for you, darlin'. Gonna give you something to remember. Something to think about when you're far away from me."

Niall swallows thickly. It's overwhelming in that moment, like even with all of the crazy things he's experienced in his life, doing this with Bressie is uniquely important.

"So gorgeous," Bressie mutters, pulling out and trailing his slick hand up Niall's thigh, unfolding Niall's leg and pulling it down around his waist. "Can't even believe this." Bressie shifts back to look Niall in the face. Niall's shivering some, can't help it though he's not even a little cold.

Bressie finally leans back to pull his clothes off, shirt first, bare chest heaving as he pushes down his jeans and boxers, dropping them in the pile with Niall's. His thighs are thick where he sits back on his feet, cock blood-dark and bobbing under its own weight, thick and heavy and obscene. Niall swallows a mouthful of spit and draws his knees up, arching the small of his back and opening himself up, feeling slutty and anxious and wanted all at the same time.

When Niall jokes about how he finally has chest hair, it's because he's half actually proud about it, but Bressie's makes him feel practically pubescent again—it's full but neat, makes him look even bigger, even more like a real man. Part of Niall still feels like this whole thing is going to turn out to be a massive, humiliating prank, but then Bressie crawls up to him, hands and knees on the mattress, body hair brushing over Niall's skin, and there's no room in Niall's brain to feel anything but turned on.

"Best get on your belly, pet," Bressie says softly. "It'll hurt less." He's holding himself up on straight arms over Niall, but he looks wistful.

"No," Niall says, shaking his head. "I wanna do it like this. Want to see you."

Bressie closes his eyes for a moment, like the idea pains him, but he nods. "Yeah, okay, we can do that."

Niall chews his lip, feeling tentative again. "Is that not good?"

Bressie shakes his head quickly, ducking down to catch Niall's mouth in a searing kiss before pulling back again. "No, I want—I want to see you, too. Want to kiss you while I—" he pauses, eyes fluttering shut again briefly. His cock flexes against Niall's, stiffening up even more. "While I'm in you. I can—I'll just take it slow." He reaches to the side, something crinkling in his palm. "Let me just—"

"We don't need that," Niall blurts out, clutching at Bressie's arm. "Do we? I mean, I haven't been—and you haven't for a long while, right?" Niall pushes him away, just enough to read his face better. He presses a knee into Bressie's side, shifting it softly against the tender place under his armpit.

"I haven't." Bressie agrees, but he sounds shaky.

"Well you're not going to knock me up." Niall shrugs. "So let's skip it."

Bressie groans, condom packet clenched in his fist. "It'll be easier, though. To get inside, it—helps. Makes it easier, keeps it less messy—"

"I don't want easy," Niall says. "And messy is good. It's—I want to feel that. You, like, filling me up." He knows he's blushing now, but every wank fantasy he's ever had about Bressie involves Bressie coming inside him, or on him, never in a rubber.

"Jesus," Bressie murmurs. His arm muscles shift as he squeezes the base of his dick. "You're saying," he swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing, "that you want me to come inside you? That you wanna feel that?"

Niall nods, cheeks burning at the admission. "Yeah, I want that," he says bravely. "Been thinking about it for weeks."

Bressie's staring at him because what he's asking is a big deal, or maybe because Bressie can't wrap his brain around the fact that this is what Niall wants. The fact that Niall trusts him that much is something he should probably think about, but he can't now, not when Bressie's eyes flutter shut and he looks like he's willing himself to take deep, steady breaths. He tosses the condom away and nuzzles up under Niall's ear, lips ghosting softly over Niall's throat.

"You don't know what you do to me, pet," he murmurs, shifting his hips so that the fat head of his cock snubs up against Niall's hole. Niall inhales quickly at the feel of it and holds his breath, waiting. Bressie just stays there, circling his hips tightly so that his dick nudges at him again and again, each time too gently to get inside. It's enough pressure to make Niall want it so much he spreads his thighs wider, whining for more. "You need my fingers again, or—?" He grips Niall's thigh when he says it, fingers spanning around, pressing in. "Are you ready for me, darlin'?"

Niall sucks in a trembling breath, dick jerking around a thick sluice of precome, Bressie's voice making his ear burn hot where his lips are brushing against it. "Yes," he says, not much more than a breath. "Yeah, c'mon."

"Fuck," Bressie says, dropping his head down, like he's been defeated. "Tell me if it's too much."

"Just do it. Please, now, Brez—" He shifts down, rocks his hips to slide the slick cleft of his arse along Bressie's bare dick. The feel of it drags a whine out of Niall; it's so hard, skin hot, just like every wank fantasy Niall's had in recent memory.

Bressie kisses Niall again, sweaty foreheads pressed together, one big hand stroking in Niall's hair while the other finds his messy, open hole. He's tender now, but also darkly possessive, fingers tightening in Niall's hair, pulling just enough to make Niall's scalp tingle. Niall clenches around nothing, hums in the back of his throat when Bressie leans away to take his dick in his hand and press it to Niall's crack, pushing it through the slick and spit, hot and blunt on Niall's skin.

The knob of it feels huge when it catches the rim of Niall's hole, slipping easily over it a few times, Bressie getting him used to it, taking care to be gentle. He's so big, this shouldn't work, but Niall wants it, can't wait to feel Bressie stuffing him full. "Please, c'mon," Niall says again, flexing. Finally Bressie pushes in, slow and steady. Niall gasps around it as Bressie's cockhead seats inside him, crown of his dick holding Niall open, stretching him. Niall holds his breath.

Bressie looks at him for a long moment, fingers gone gentle in Niall's hair, stroking. His breath is hitching. "Okay? Breathe for me, pet."

Niall nods and inhales, tries to keep steady. It's uncomfortable, and there's something in him that feels like he's about to fly apart, but he'd probably die if they stopped now.

Bressie feeds another thick inch of his cock to Niall once he's settled, slow and even, hand curled around it pressed close to the flesh of Niall's arse, holding him apart. "That's it," Bressie says, kissing Niall through it. "Taking me so good."

Niall shivers as Bressie keeps pushing in, the stretch and burn of it relentless and overwhelming. It's like being cored, pried open as he spreads his thighs so wide his knees start shaking. He's hot all over, flushed down his whole chest when he looks along his body to where Bressie's hand is curled between his legs. He whimpers a little, can't help it when he's breathing so hard, struggling to take it.

Bressie's cock is fat and heavy inside his arse, every inch Bressie gives him pressing out another sigh, opening him up somewhere deeper. It looks huge enough in Bressie's hand, but feels impossible now, like Niall doesn't have enough room inside his body for it. It heats him up from the inside, the burn radiating through him and Niall just wants to hold there for a moment, letting it sizzle through him.

"Okay?" Bressie asks again. He's shaking from holding back, from the strain of going so slow; Niall can feel it everywhere their bodies touch. Bressie kisses the corner of Niall's slack, panting mouth. Niall nods with his eyes shut, feeling blown open but desperate for Bressie not to stop. Bressie's hips are flush with his now, whole dick in him. "Niall," Bressie says, hand sliding gently from Niall's hair to curl a finger under his chin. "Hey, hey, look at me, chief."

Niall opens his eyes, looks back at Bressie above him, feeling it in every nerve, Bressie's pulse beating inside him the same as the flutter of the pulse in Bressie's throat. "Yeah," he rasps. "Keep going." He doesn't know what else to say, everything gone but Bressie in him and around him. "Feels good."

His own dick is only half hard now, but he reaches for it, and Bressie presses another kiss to his lips. "That's good, touch yourself," he says, and bundles Niall up to his chest. He sits back on his haunches, lifts Niall like he weighs nothing.

Niall gasps at the feeling of Bressie's dick shifting inside him, shoving deeper, pressing hard all the way inside him so that his hips go open and loose and his balls start to ache, drawing up. Niall's cock throbs in his fist, thickening from the thrill of that feeling inside him, unrelenting and stiff.

It's good, but then Bressie starts rocking his hips, fucking up into Niall's body, smooth and deep, and it's even better, unbelievable. Niall has to bury his face against Bressie's chest, lips pressed tightly together to keep himself from crying out. Bressie's breath shakes and he stretches his neck up, groaning, clutching Niall close to him as he pumps his hips. Niall's muscles are on fire, and he's shaking so much he forgets about jerking himself off, barely has the wherewithal with Bressie's dick filling him up over and over to work his own hand.

"Good?" Bressie says into Niall's hair while clutching at his shoulders and pistoning up into his arse. Niall tries to nod but Bressie's holding him so tight that he can barely move, and then Bressie tugs him down and dicks into him _hard_. Niall can't hold it in, moans loud and long and shameless. "Fuck, that's it," Bressie pants, "Let me hear you."

The next few fucks are solid, but not as vicious as the first one, so Niall tries shoving down, tries to work his own hips so that he can force Bressie in deeper, make him fuck faster. Every press of Bressie's massive cock in him feels fantastic, but there's something he's chasing, some deep-seated need inside that he's so close to getting. "Can you," he says in between moans. "Faster."

"Christ," Bressie growls, digging his fingers in to hold Niall still. "Yeah, I can," he says, tipping forward so that Niall's on his back with his knees hitched up high, Bressie looming over him. Niall cries out loudly when Bressie goes at it again, nailing him quick and hard, again and again until Niall's incoherent with how good it is. "Jesus, look at you," Bressie says, big body working him over so that the whole bed shakes with every slam of his hips. "Taking it so good, you fucking love it."

Niall bears down, his arse tightening up, clinging to Bressie's dick hungrily, and he tugs on his own cock, pulling himself off, utterly desperate. He can't stop moaning—he's never been this noisy during sex before, but he's never had sex this _good_ before, and he can't think straight enough to let it embarrass him.

"Yes, pup," Bressie groans, watching Niall's fist blurring over his flushed prick as he fucks him even faster. "Gonna fuck the come out of you. Let me see you cream all over your pretty skin while I dick you—"

Niall comes suddenly, open-mouthed and shuddering all over, arse clenching around Bressie's cock still pounding relentlessly inside him. He's keening, pressing his hot face into the sheets, not even caring what noises he's making, how desperate and slutty he looks as he spasms on Bressie's dick. He tugs at his own cock with one hand, coaxing his load out to splatter up his belly, other arm anchoring himself around Bressie's neck as he sobs, words gasped out between moans,"Fuck, fuck—oh fuck, Bressie, shit—"

Everything is intense in that moment—Niall can feel his arse clutching and releasing, pulsing around Bressie's cock even after he's dribbled his last bit out, come smeared around his fist and onto his hip. Bressie growls and tucks in, pinning Niall to the bed and fucking him wildly, groaning filth into Niall's neck. "God, you love it, don't you? Want me to shoot off inside you, want to feel it dripping out of you—"

He pushes at the backs of Niall's thighs, pressing Niall's knees up higher so that his arse is tilted towards the ceiling and then he drives down, drilling into him over and over. Niall cries out again, this time with how oversensitive he is, arsehole reamed out and sore, but he doesn't want him to stop, loves that Bressie's lost to the feeling.

"First cock you've ever come on," Bressie grunts. "Gonna be your last. Give it to you all day and all night, darlin'." He grips Niall's cheeks in both hands and squeezes hard, spreading him further as he jackhammers in and out. "This is all mine."

He's not trying to be gentle anymore, pistoning his hips into Niall with abandon, all wrecked noises and grunts and rough hands. He's got Niall folded in half and he's so damned big, putting all of his strength and size into it. The muscles in his thighs bunch and work, dick slamming into Niall with the obscene slapping noises of slick, sweaty skin against skin. Niall's body is jarred with it, back rubbing against the damp mess of sheets under him, breaths knocked out of him in heavy gasps.

He feels it in every nerve, tense and fucked-out at the same time, consumed by the pressure of Bressie's massive dick crammed up in him, the heady scent of him, his body surrounding Niall completely and holding him down, shaking him through his core. Bressie's turned brutal and possessive in a way that makes Niall's eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed and loving every second of it.

Eventually Bressie groans, hips stuttering. Niall clutches at him, holding him close as he feels it, Bressie's cock swelling up and then throbbing inside him, filling him with long, wet spurts.

His brain is barely back online but he trembles thinking about it—he wants that, to be Bressie's. He loves that Bressie's claimed him, marked him up with bruises and lovebites and come. He clings to Bressie's neck, arms wrapped tightly around him, skin sliding in sweat, hoping that Bressie won't feel how he's shaking.

After a long moment, Bressie lifts his head, tries to look up at Niall, but Niall hangs on tight, keeping his face pressed to Bressie's shoulder. "Sweetheart," Bressie murmurs, "let me see you."

Niall exhales shakily and pulls back, cheeks burning and eyes still wet from the intensity of it all. He slips his hands down, slides them under Bressie's armpits and holds onto his sweat-slick back, needing to be close.

"Oh god," Bressie says, wiping the tears from Niall's face with his thumbs. He looks panicked, shifts his hips so that his softening cock slips out of Niall's body, making Niall wince from both the pull and emptiness. "Oh Christ, are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"

Niall shakes his head, too overcome to speak. He tries smiling but it comes out watery and weak. Bressie keeps thumbing at his tears, ducking down and kissing all over Niall's face and it feels really, really good, exactly what Niall needs to help him come back down. "I'm sorry, so sorry sweetheart," he coos, lips trailing softly high up on Niall's cheek. "Just seeing you like that, I couldn't—couldn't help myself. God, you looked so good, felt so good. Being inside you—never felt anything like it."

Niall arches up against Bressie's body, tilting his face so that he can hear more, be kissed more. It's new, this feeling, how he's all spaced out so that he can't really respond enough to tell Bressie that he's fine, he's buzzing, actually. It's just a lot to take.

"Wanted you for so long," Bressie says, voice low against his ear. "Since the day I met you, if I'm honest." Niall sighs, shuddery and content, pulls Bressie down for more kisses. It's the only way he can let Bressie know that he feels the same right now, that there's a big part of him that's has always wanted this, always wanted Bressie to want him back. He kisses Bressie slow and sweet, sucking gently on his tongue and anchoring his hands around Bressie's neck.

After long minutes of kissing, Bressie pulls back, rests his forehead against Niall's. He looks dazed and happy, and Niall whimpers, straining up to nuzzle at his jaw. "Don't know how I got this lucky," Bressie says, voice in a low whisper like he's talking to himself. He shifts up, presses his lips to Niall's forehead before rolling to the side so that he can curl around Niall. He trails his fingers softly down Niall's face and neck, down his still-flushed chest and still-sticky stomach. When he makes his way down in between Niall's legs, Niall parts them easily, wincing at the soreness inside.

Bressie shifts up on one shoulder, curls down to watch as he touches at the roughed-up skin around Niall's hole. "On your belly for me, pup," he says with a gentle pat to Niall's hip, helping him to roll over. "I'm just gonna look," Bressie says, even as he strokes Niall's aching hole. "Make sure you're okay."

Niall blushes, gasping when Bressie opens him up again with his hands, pets at his hole.  "God, you're so pretty, all pinked up for me," he says quietly as Niall shifts. 

He gives it a few kisses, tongues him all gentle, until Niall is squirming away, hissing, "Too much."

Bressie slides back up the bed, pulls Niall onto his chest, face to face. "Are you okay, sweetheart? How do you feel?"

Niall blinks, takes a breath, and thinks it over. There's a lot to be said. "A bit peckish," he settles on, finally managing some coherence. Practical first, the rest later. His voice is hoarse, so he coughs to clear his throat.

Bressie stares at him, mouth falling open a bit. Niall grins tiredly.

"Don't go taking the piss," Bressie warns.

"I'm not," Niall says, smiling wider. "I wouldn't joke about this." He slides his legs back down to the bed, stretching out all of his stiff muscles as he pats his belly. "That was quite a workout. If we're going to do it again I'm going to need to refuel."

Bressie chokes on a laugh, shaking his head. "You want to do it again now?" he asks, incredulous.

"Pushy," Niall says, smacking at his arm. "I just said I needed a meal. Can you give me a few minutes, stud?"

Bressie laughs then, loud and bright. "Alright then, let's run you a bath and I'll put a stew on."

Niall's cheeks flush hot at how Bressie talks to him like he's a kid, even after he's just fucked his arse raw. "Then what? You going to pick out my jimjams and comb my hair and tuck me in?"

He means it as a joke, but the way Bressie looks at him, eyes dark and face serious, makes Niall swallow down his laugh. "If you like," Bressie says, voice both deep and soft.

His arse aches, he's covered in tacky jizz and he could probably put away three bowls of stew but all of a sudden Niall doesn't care about any of those things. "C'mere," he says, motioning to Bressie. He grabs at the back of Bressie's neck, still damp with sweat but cooling now, and pulls him into a kiss, slow and sweet. Bressie comes easily, laughing loose and genuine, kissing Niall through his grin, and Niall feels light and content even through his exhaustion.

"No need to rush, chief," Bressie says, "we got all week." He thumbs at a bead of sweat at Niall's temple and kisses after it, more sound than substance. Niall laughs and pushes at him.

"We're going to make good use of it," Niall says, rolling awkwardly off the bed onto his feet. His muscles protest, and Bressie moves quickly to steady him. "Maybe you should keep some of that protein shake stuff by the bed, yeah? Need to keep my strength up. I would've been training harder on tour if I'd known what coming home would be like."

Bressie ducks his head and smiles at the floor. "Home, eh?" Niall looks up at him and grins, feels like he might burst with how happy he is. He shrugs and nods, because of course Bressie feels like home. He always has.

  
  


THE END


End file.
